


One Sleepy Morning

by lily49



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, supervirginsherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3791986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily49/pseuds/lily49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little fic about my two favorite blokes having at each other. Set between Baskerville and Reichenbach. Sherlock really is like the 30 year old virgin here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Sleepy Morning

**Author's Note:**

> All positive comments appreciated!

Holmes and Watson lived together at 221B for two years before they realized they loved each other. They each came to such a conclusion in their own way and time, John much sooner than Sherlock. Their individual discoveries of their emotions remained private and did not have any effect on their relationship. Very early one morning, Sherlock woke to find John in bed with him, wearing a tshirt and flannel pants, akin to his own attire. He assumed that John's entrance to the room and to his bed was what woke him, considering John was not yet asleep again. He caught his dreary eye, smiled and said nothing. Sherlock rolled over and fell back asleep. The next morning, they awoke to bright sunlight streaming into the room. John had forgotten that he had climbed into bed with Sherlock and was surprised to find Sherlock hugging him in their sleep. His body was warm and his head was nestled into John's neck. John thought about waking Sherlock up, but thought he might freak and leave, and he was enjoying Sherlock's warmth. Sherlock opened his eyes on his own pretty soon thought, and asked, "John, what's going on?" He didn't move.   
John said, "I had a nasty dream and I didn't want to be alone and I just..." He started to get scared that he had crossed a line, and started to freak a little. Sherlock calmed him down, "It's alright." John started into unexplored territory.   
"Sherlock, I've sort of been meaning to talk to you about an....issue of sorts."   
"So have I."   
"Might they be the same issue?"  
"Very likely,given the similarity in our physical responses."  
"You've been...," here John paused, unsure of what to say. Sherlock finished for him.  
...lonely when you're gone. I have. It's comforting for you to be here right now. Are you comfortable?" Sherlock's face was level with his own, unusual given their height difference. Sherlock's arms and legs were loosely draped over him in what could be vaguely described as a hug. He was closer to another man than he'd ever been before. "Completely comfortable."   
"Good." And Sherlock Holmes did, for the first time ever, something spontaneous. A methodical man, spontaneity was completely out of character. He leaned in and kissed John, full on the lips, for it seemed like the logical thing to do. And John kissed him back. They lingered on each other for but a moment, before they broke and Sherlock unwrapped his limbs from John's and climbed over him and out of his own bed. He wandered sleepily into the bathroom, and stopped to look in the mirror. His black curly hair was more disorganized than usual; he fluffed it with his hands until it looked normal again, and made morning use of the facilities. He was washing his hands when John appeared in the doorway, leaning up against the door frame and staring at Sherlock thoughtfully. Sherlock finished his hand washing and then turned to look at John with an equivalent expression. John broke the silence.   
"So...what now? I usually would go on a date with someone I was interested in, but I've gone on dates with you, to dinner, to the symphony, to the crime scene...that was some case!" Sherlock smiled and snorted a little bit, remembering. "And it's not even like I don't know your habits, I've already been living with you for two bloody years. So there exhausts my knowledge of action in such a situation."   
Sherlock replied hesitantly, for this area was not his strong suit. "I would say that we should just see how it goes, and to remember that openness to this is key to any possible success that we would have as a romantic partnership."   
"Just see how it goes...sounds fine."  
"Good. Breakfast?"   
Sherlock didn't usually cook beyond his typical oatmeal, but today, he was clearly planning something big. He put on a pair of better sweats, trainers, and a sweatshirt, and then said he was running down to the shop on the corner to pick up a few things for breakfast. John wandered around the flat, replaying the events of the morning in his head. He wasn't sure that it had really even happened. He had always sort of hoped that his feelings were reciprocated but it had always been just that; a hope. Now that they were becoming reality, he wasn't so sure. But the more he thought about that morning, the more he wanted to do it again. On a whim, he went upstairs and grabbed his bottle of lube and stuck it in Sherlock's bedside table. After what seemed like ages, Sherlock returned with the ingredients for a fabulous breakfast; bacon, eggs, milk, and bread. He started to clear off their table, and John started to protest. Sherlock never cleared the table, since their kitchen always functioned more like Sherlock's lab than as a place with anything to do with food.   
"No really, you don't need to do this Sherlock, I know you've got projects going on," John said, gesturing to the microscope and test tubes that were the normal residents of the space. Sherlock just looked up at him and said, "Yes, John, I do. If I'm going to bother to do the labor to cook a good breakfast than we might as well use the table to eat a good breakfast. Don't worry, I'm only shoving this stuff to the side."   
John sat down at the table, sipping his coffee. Sherlock was frying bacon and eggs, and appeared to be making French toast. John just watched him, in wonder. He supposed that Sherlock must know how to cook; clearly he did, but it wasn't an activity Sherlock had ever bothered with. They sat that way in silence, John watching him, Sherlock enjoying being watched. When Sherlock had finished cooking and handed John a plate, they started talking again.   
"Do we have anything we are working on today?"  
"Unless a client comes in, no...it shall be a very dull day indeed. I plan to spend it playing (violin), maybe composing, reading, and watching telly...you?"  
John thought for a moment, and then, "Probably reading, maybe I'll write a little, maybe watch telly with you."   
"Alright." Sherlock cleared the breakfast dishes and washed them, and then came and sat down in his chair, opposite John's like they do every day. John was reading the morning paper, which had more details of the latest escapade of Holmes and Watson. Sherlock cleared his throat a little and John looked around his newspaper. "I talked about what I was doing today, and you talked about what you were doing today...what are we doing today?"  
"I don't know. What do you want us to do today?"   
Sherlock got out of his chair, crossed the room, and plucked the newspaper out of John's hands, neatly folded it up, and put it on the side table next to the chair. He sat down on John's lap and started to kiss him again. John realized that he was 100% okay with doing nothing else today, and joined in the fun. Sherlock hadn't ever really done this before; in fact, he'd typically avoided it. Now, he didn't know why. This felt amazing, and all he wanted to do today was this. His brain was completely exploding, and while some part of his consciousness started into the analysis of the brain chemistry of all of this, most of him just felt awesome. He explored John's mouth with his own and body with his hands, while John did the same. It all felt fucking fantastic, like a different kind of high. They sat like this for awhile, until eventually John stopped Sherlock from continuing.   
"What, did I do something wrong?"  
"No, I just-" Sherlock was on him again. "-need to get up and piss. Meet me in your room?"  
Sherlock jumped up and followed John so far as the bathroom, and then continued into his own bedroom. He sat on the edge of his bed, thinking about what was going on. He felt powerful and weak at the same time. The mornings' activities gave him such a rush that he was running high on hormones and felt like he could do anything, yet John had the ability to completely control him. Sherlock soon heard the toilet flush and John came back into his bedroom, and climbed into bed and laid down. Sherlock threw his legs up on the bed and rolled over so he was facing John. They started to snog again, hands on bodies, mouths on mouths and necks. Sherlock broke them up.   
"What are we doing? I've never...this feels amazing."  
"I know it's supposed to. It's called foreplay, and it's designed to help warm you and especially your woman up." He giggled a little bit. "But since there's not one, you'll just have to be a pretty lady."   
Sherlock was very confused, but decided he would just go with it. He also determined that he too needed to pee. He hopped out of bed and walked into his bathroom, to discover he was very hard. This wasn't a condition he found himself in very often and when he did he ignored it. But he wasn't going to ignore it this time. But since he really did need to piss, he concentrated his thoughts on other things until he was soft enough. When he walked into the bedroom, John was still in there. Laying on his side, propping his head up with his hands, completely naked. Sherlock stopped walking so suddenly he almost fell over. He stumbled a little bit and regained his balance, to start comprehending what was going on. He stood there, looking down at John for awhile, and John started to get uncomfortable, so he was grabbing sheets to cover himself with.   
"Stop."  
The sheets were almost there. "Put them down. I want to remember this, I want to remember you, exactly as you are right now."  
So John paused, and then resumed his pose. Sherlock just looked him over, from his head that he was used to seeing, down to his chest and stomach, both belonging to someone who exercises regularly. He let his eyes continue to wander, down through John's hard penis and onto his magnificent legs. Sherlock climbed back into bed. They resumed making out, but John grabbed Sherlock's right hand and guided  
It to his own hard cock. Sherlock let his left hand wander over John's back, feeling its contours. While Sherlock fondled John, John wanted more access to the rest of Sherlock. John started to pull Sherlock's shirt off of his body, to get Sherlock's skin closer to his own, to get his being closer to his own. Once his shirt was off, John pulled him in a little closer, wanting to feel his chest on himself, wanting to feel the taller man on his own form. They kept kissing, and John started to move off of his lips and onto his neck and chest. He moaned, sounds John had never heard him make before but would hear many more times in the future. Sherlock stopped moving and became completely engaged in what John was doing. John then took a moment to take his sweats and then his pants off. Now there wasn't anything between them besides a gap that Sherlock quickly closed, attacking John's body the same way he himself had been. It felt good; he was learning. But John just had to see his cock. It was not going to be a secret to him any longer and John jumped out of bed, and whipped the covers off to the floor. Sherlock Holmes was beautiful completely naked. His skin was basically perfect, markless and smooth everywhere. He was lean and slender, but still so much a man. His legs were long, strong, pale, and covered with a very fine layer of black hair. John let his eyes wander up to Sherlock's cock. He let himself stare. John hadn't ever thought of himself as gay; he loved women and he loved fucking them. But here he stood, absolutely in love and fascinated with his male best friend, who, by the way, had the perfect penis. Just as pale as the rest of him (Sherlock wasn't exactly one for sunbathing) and framed by a tuft of black hair, Sherlock's cock was about 7 inches long, and about an inch and a half in diameter. He let his eyes continue across Sherlock's stomach and chest, which, like the rest of Sherlock's body, was lean muscle. He followed up to Sherlock's neck and head.   
"John...?" Sherlock was looking at him.  
"I love you so fucking much." John climbed back into the bed and grabbed the covers, realizing that he was cold. Sherlock, who had been laying there and was still pretty warm, pulled John into him.   
"I love you, too. Look, John...I don't know what your intentions are and I'm perfectly happy to do whatever you want, but you should know, I have absolutely no experience. Sex is completely foreign to me, I always thought of it as a distraction to my thoughts. So...I guess all I'm saying is that I don't know what I should be doing, but I trust you."   
All John could do was to kiss him. And Sherlock responded, coming full back into his mouth. John took over, and kissed all around Sherlock's neck, down his chest and stomach. He crawled down between Sherlock's legs and and took hold of Sherlock's cock with his right hand. He felt Sherlock melt underneath of his touch, moaning all the while. Again John hadn't ever thought of himself as gay or even bisexual. But he wanted Sherlock's cock in his mouth, to lick it, to suck on it; just like all of his waste of time girlfriends had done. So he did, licking the head first and then up and down the shaft, stroking with his right hand. The size was expected but the taste and the smell. It was just so....Sherlock. It wasn't Sherlock's typical scent (who smells like cock) but John could smell how this scent contributed to Sherlock's overall scent.   
Meanwhile Sherlock had started making a new sound; a low rumbling sort of moan that filled the room. John licked and sucked for a while but realised that if he kept at it Sherlock would cum and he wasn't ready for that yet. John was ready to hear Sherlock scream. He climbed back up to the head of the bed and grabbed that bottle of lube and started with his right index finger, first running around the edge and then pushing in. Sherlock tensed up, and then relaxed after a few seconds. John decided to try a second finger and he added his middle to the mix. John could tell that Sherlock was in a little pain, but he wasn't saying anything, just wincing a bit. He pushed in a little further, unsure of how far up he'd really have to go to find his grand prize but knew that he would definitely hear about it. His fingers were pretty much completely inside when he brushed up against that magic spot and Sherlock absolutely howled.  
"THAT...THAT FEELS....AMAZING". Sherlock was seriously struggling for words at all, attempting to fit the words between the gasps he was currently calling breathing.   
"I know, it should. Do you like it?"   
Sherlock quickly nodded, and practically shoved himself onto John's hand. So in went a 3rd finger, and Sherlock again clenched up a bit. "You have to relax for this not to feel like I'm ripping you in half."  
"I know" was the response that came through clenched teeth. He did relax a bit as John worked him open. Sherlock started to again enjoy it, allowing himself to be reminded of how beautiful this man was.   
John pulled his fingers out, grabbed the lube bottle, and started to lube his cock over, almost cumming in his own hand for how hard he was.   
He slowly pushed in. God, Sherlock was so fucking tight, and this felt absolutely amazing. He paused, let Sherlock adjust, and then kept going, inch by inch, slowing sheathing himself. Sherlock, meanwhile was trying to keep his mouth shut; he didn't want to let the neighbours in on what was going on in 221B. John however, couldn't hold it in and let out a long groan.   
"Oh my God, Sherlock..." Soon he was all the way there, their bodies as one. He just held them there, taking it all in. The amazing man laying before him, two years of pent-up frustration about said man, gone. And today would open a new chapter of their lives, a much sexier chapter.   
Slowly he started to work his way in and out, watching Sherlock to make sure he wasn't in too much pain. Sherlock's expressions were getting less forced by the second, and soon he started to enjoy it. For his part, Sherlock could feel every inch of John inside of him, and while it hurt, it was also amazing. The pain was gradually lessening. John noticed this and started to thrust a little faster, taking longer strokes and going deeper with them. The pain lessened enough that Sherlock realised that John's cock was managing to graze his prostate (which was fucking magic) and he started to focus more on how amazing that felt and how amazing all of this was.   
Eventually John hit what was his usual stride, and was loving every minute of it. He'd had sex, but the feelings he held for Sherlock made this particular encounter so much more. He was harder than he'd ever been and was almost positive he wasn't gonna last long now that he had his rhythm going. Sherlock had taken his prick into his own hands and was now stroking vigorously, moaning much louder than he thought he ought to. They went on like this for a few minutes before Sherlock came in his hands, with accompanying moans, deep and satisfied. Watching Sherlock cum and feeling him clench up around John's cock was enough to make him cum not that long afterward. He bottomed out, and emptied everything he had into Sherlock. He stayed until he went soft, pulled out, and laid down next to Sherlock.   
"I'm really sweaty now, shower?   
Sherlock seemed confused. "Are you asking me to come with you?"   
"I'd love that."


End file.
